


Reflections and Reassurances

by Kahlan_Amnell



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 05:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5730880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahlan_Amnell/pseuds/Kahlan_Amnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One cannot expect to be in a grueling battle and escape completely unscathed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflections and Reassurances

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been a long while since I wrote any fic, and it’s the first time writing for this pairing. I just had to get it off my brain.  
> Thanks goes to [freakingdork](http://archiveofourown.org/users/freakingdork) for the beta, and to [justjasper](http://archiveofourown.org/users/justjasper) for helping with the title. Partly inspired by [this post](http://yetanothercriminalmindsfanatic.tumblr.com/post/137348545818).  
> Reblog on tumblr [here](http://yetanothercriminalmindsfanatic.tumblr.com/post/137362034401).

The Red Templars just kept coming. No matter how many they killed, there were more, alerted to the sounds of battle and joining in the fray.

The Iron Bull followed Adaar into the thick of it, while keeping tabs on where Sera and Dorian were. He met one of the Templars charging him with a mighty swing of his greataxe, knocking him into three others, leaving them to be fried to a crisp by Dorian’s Immolate.

As the battle continued, inching forward slowly, their positions changed as needed to keep the enemy at bay. The Bull’s muscles were screaming, but still he kept cleaving into the Templars, exercising efficiency of movement and allowing the momentum to carry him into the next swing of his weapon.

He noticed Sera yanking arrows out of the fallen enemy to nock and fire. There’s still some in her quiver, but not many remaining.

Dorian’s gone through a few lyrium potions as well, and moved closer to the other three, in order to maintain their barriers without having to exert as much mana over the distance, using the difference instead into throwing spells that would thin the ranks they still faced.

They were tiring, but so was the enemy. While the ones they fought were ferocious and determined, the Bull noticed that there hadn’t been another wave joining in. That was going to be the last of them.

As he pivoted with the follow-through on his last strike, he saw a lone Templar at the edge of the battlefield, creeping up behind Dorian. He shouted at the mage, but his voice was swallowed by the din of clashing metal and screams.

Time seemed to slow, as he looked on in horror.

Dorian never saw the Templar, who had crossed the final few feet unnoticed and plunged a sword through his chest. Eyes widening in shock, one hand going to the blade protruding from the front as Dorian locked eyes with Bull.

The Iron Bull saw the staff fall as Dorian raised his outstretched hand towards him. Blood seeped from the wound, staining the robes. And he could see those lips form the word _amatus_ as the mage sank to his knees, before pitching forward onto his face.

“NO!” he bellowed. Crying out for Dorian to hang on even though the logical part of his brain whispered that there was no way he could have survived such a grievous injury, Bull threw everything he had into hacking the twisted Red Templars, cutting a path as quick as he could to get to Dorian’s side.

The one who struck the killing blow yanked his sword free and came at the Bull, which suited the Bull just fine with his rage and anguish. He charged at him and swung hard, taking the Templar’s head clean off his shoulders without slowing down at all until he reached Dorian.

Scooping up the fallen man up and turning him over, the Bull pressed a hand to the mortal wound, a futile attempt to staunch the flow. Cradling the body close to his chest, he murmured repeatedly, “Katoh, katoh, katoh.”

 

* * *

 

A dull roar in his ears and a headache that was eased slightly with a damp cloth being dabbed at his forehead was what the Bull was aware of next. He cracked his eye open before squeezing it shut, the light from the fireplace being too much.

He tried to speak, though his mouth felt drier than the Hissing Wastes. All Bull managed was not quite a grunt and a croaking noise.

A couple of calloused fingers touched his lips lightly, briefly, and  accompanied by a gentle, “Shh, shh. It’s alright.”

_That voice_. Bull forced his eye open into a narrow slit, grimacing at the increased pounding in his temples, then opening his eye wider to see who spoke.

Inhaling sharply, he reached out with a trembling hand, hesitant as if he was afraid it would go away like a popped soap bubble. The feeling of relief washing over him when it  was clasped between two smaller ones with such a strong presence he could barely believe.

“If I helped, do you think you could sit up a bit for a drink of water?” Dorian asked, concern weighing heavily on his features. He looked as if he had slept in the same robes for days, hair and mustache mussed, the kohl smudged, but was a more than welcome sight.

The Iron Bull nodded, taking his hand back so he could prop himself up on his elbows as Dorian tucked more pillows behind him before grabbing a cup from the table.

After he had finished, he reached over to Dorian, pulling him into a tight embrace which he loosened with a sheepish “sorry,” when the mage tapped his arm and wheezed out “too tight.”

Dorian pulled back, in order to look at the Bull intently. He raised his hands to his face, cupping it gently. “Not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment, but what was that for?”

The Bull leaned into the touch, placing a hand over one of Dorian’s. He closed his eye and licked his lips. Patting the bed beside him, he asked, “Join me?”

No quips, no innuendos, which alerted Dorian to the seriousness. He quickly and silently climbed up and settled next to the Bull, who pulled him in close, then kept his arm around his waist.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Dorian said.

Bull squeezed his hip with the hand still resting there, the tight feeling in his chest upon waking had transformed into the pangs of something else. Of want, of need, of joy at seeing his kadan again. He took a deep breath to steel himself, inhaling the familiar scent of the man sitting beside him, letting the breath out in a whoosh.

Shakily, he began with, “I thought you died.”

As Dorian leaned into him further, he recounted the details, ending with, “I held you in my arms, and I couldn’t do anything. I felt so close to losing it all to a blind rage. I wanted to make them all pay for taking you away from me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, amatus. It was just a- no, no, Qunari don’t dream.”

“Not dreams. Memories.”

“Perhaps the fever warped the memory into the nightmare,” Dorian suggested. “I did receive a wound, but it was to my arm, which Madame de Fer so graciously mended when we got back to camp. The lout who dared strike at me did succeed in causing me to drop my staff, however.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the audacity of the vile Templar. “Sera took care of that nuisance.”

At Bull’s raised eyebrow, since he had apparently forgotten that detail, Dorian elaborated with a wry smile, “She got him in the eye from near where Adaar was fighting. Don’t ask me how, though I still shiver to think where that arrow would have ended up had another archer of lesser skill been the one to loose it from their bow.”

The Bull chuckled briefly, then grew serious again. “You said I had a fever?” he queried.

“Yes. You had suddenly keeled over on us. We suspected that it was the arrow that grazed your back— that it was coated with something. Fortunate for us, it wasn’t a direct hit. Less of whatever it was having gotten into your system, and for it to spread.

“You appeared to be fine after the fighting was over- aside from superficial cuts and nicks, of course. It’s a wonder how you don’t get more seriously injured, what with the lack of armour and all.”

Bull grinned. “Aw, you worry about me!”

Dorian rolled his eyes, though the effect was ruined by the twitching of the corners of his lips as he fought hard not to smile. “As I was saying, when it finally spread, you dropped like a felled tree. If it wasn’t for Adaar, you would’ve landed on the campfire. He and I had a time of it, laying you on your bedroll. And it took all of us to get you onto the wagon for the trip back to Skyhold.” At the last bit, he huffed dramatically, causing the drooping ends of his mustache to flutter.

The Bull leaned into Dorian, placing a light kiss to his temple. “Thanks, big guy.”

“Just don’t make a habit of it,” Dorian joked. The concerned look returned. “You should get some rest.”

“That sounds good,” Bull agreed. He paused, eye meeting eyes.

Picking up on it, Dorian asked, “What do you need?”

“Can you stay with me?”

“Of course.” Dorian quickly unbuckled his rumpled robes and tossed them off the bed, then shucked the rest until he was only in his smallclothes. Turning to remove the extra pillows, the Bull stopped him by grabbing his hand.

“Maybe… could you hold me?” he asked, sounding unsure.

Dorian nodded, then watched as the other man arranged the pillows then angled his head carefully near the corner of the bed, so his horn was next to it instead of on top of, as he eased himself onto his side. He then scooted over to the Qunari, pulled the blankets up to cover them both, then pressed himself close and burying his face into the scarred back, resting an arm around the larger man’s waist and tucking the other under the pillow he was using.

“Is this good?” he murmured into the grey skin, pressing closer when he could feel the rumble of an affirmative and a large, calloused hand that had moved to rest upon his own.

They breathed slowly and deeply, syncing up as they found comfort in each other’s breathing, until sleep finally claimed them.

 


End file.
